Silence, Please
by Blood Trillium
Summary: NorringtonOFC First Lieutenant Norrie and his wife not Elizabeth at sea preCotBP. Totally AU and has nothing to do with anything basically just an excuse to write some youngrepressedNorrie smut.


Title: Silence, Please

Author: Golden Trillium

Type/Pairing: Norrington/OFC; First Lieutenant Norrie and his wife (not Elizabeth) at sea pre-CotBP. Totally AU and has nothing to do with anything; basically just an excuse to write some young-repressed-Norrie smut.

Rating: R for sexuality and mild language

Disclaimer: Much as I might like to keep Norrington in my closet, he and the rest of POTC belong to Disney.

"James?"

First Lieutenant James Norrington whirled around at the sound of the soft, female voice behind him. By God, she could move quietly. He hadn't even heard her feet on the stairs to the poop deck…but he wasn't particularly happy to find her here.

"Mary…you should be below," he told her sternly, shifting his gaze back out to sea, to the horizon, alert for any sign of anything remotely amiss. The small pirate pinnace they had spotted earlier today had been taken fairly easily, it's crew now all killed or chained and under guard in the brig, and it was very unlikely that such down-on-their luck ruffians as they had been had any friends about, but still, vigilance was warranted, and with his wife of no more than a month aboard, James was determined not to relax for a second.

"I was below, most of the time- I just looked out for a bit." Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Mary shrug her delicate shoulders, entirely too nonchalant about the danger for his liking. She had come around to stand next to him at the rail, and now leaned forward a bit so she could peep at him under his sober, dark blue tricorne.

"You were quite magnificent, really…" her eyes took on the mischievous glint that James was all too familiar with, and she pitched her voice lower, in an imitation of himself.

"Take in sail! Hold fire, men! Boarders away!" She grinned cheekily up at him as she imitated his orders, and an irritation borne of worry suddenly flashed to the surface of James' feelings, pushing aside all else. He rounded on her, taking her by the shoulders, his voice fierce and his face only inches from her own.

"Mary, this is hardly a subject for levity! I do what I must to keep you safe, to keep the whole damn…" realizing that he was all but shouting at her, and that the helmsman was looking at them rather curiously, he trailed off in an intensely annoyed sigh, dropping his hands, closing his eyes momentarily and bowing his head. It was either that or kiss her, and that way lay only frustration. Shipboard quarters being what they were, and his in particular separated only by a very thin partition from the second lieutenant's, well…between that and the threat of danger to his wife from pirates, James Norrington had spent this whole voyage wound tighter than the anchor chain. And there were at least three more days until they reached Port Royal and she would disembark and he would have a bit of leave. Damn, damn, and damn. Desperate desire for a voyage to be over was not an emotion James was accustomed to experiencing, but he felt it now in spades.

"I'm sorry." Mary's voice was soft, genuinely contrite. She dropped her own gaze, fixing it somewhere in the vicinity of his coat buttons. One small hand made an impotent gesture, as if she meant to lay it on his arm or shoulder, then dropped. _Oh God…when did I make her afraid to touch me? _James thought with a distinct choking sensation. The more cynical part of his brain quickly supplied the answer: _Probably when I became afraid to touch her for fear of being tempted to lift her skirts and have her right here on the deck._ He quickly wrenched his thoughts away from that embarrassingly compelling image, but looking at Mary herself, dark hair gilded by the setting sun and cleavage on tasteful display in the square neckline of her gown, didn't appreciably help. She stepped away from him, looking hurt.

"I rather think you're a wonderful officer, that's all." She moved toward the stairs down to the main deck, pausing briefly at the top with her hand on the rail. "And very brave," she added in a softer voice, barely audible to James, but he heard it well enough. Then, she was gone, leaving James standing there silently cursing the world in general, and himself in particular, and wondering what he was supposed to do now.

The earlier incident still weighed heavily on his mind late that night, when, his turn as duty officer over, he pushed open the door of his tiny cabin, yawning and intent on what sleep he could get. He was both relieved and sorry to find that Mary had already given herself over to that state, lying on her back in the narrow berth, blanket mussed up over her legs as if she had kicked it partially off, dark hair spread out like a cloud on the pillow, and one arm hanging off the edge of the bed. So beautiful…and yet…no. He couldn't.

James was very conscious of the fact that Mary's being allowed to get to Jamaica by way of a tour of duty with her new husband was unusual; flattering evidence of the Captain's favor, in fact, and one he was determined not to mess up. This meant, of course, that he had to do his duties even more assiduously than when he sailed alone (though Mary's mere presence would have ensured that anyway, out of concern for her), and also that he must be discreet. For Mary's sake as well as his own and everyone else's, he did not want anyone to overhear their…marital activities. And considering that Second Lieutenant Groves slept about six inches away from them on the other side of the cabin wall, and others, though farther away than that, were certainly close enough to hear something should there be anything to be heard, that pretty much meant that marital activities were out of the question.

Still, he and Mary had to share the cabin; the first two nights of the voyage they had managed both to occupy the berth, curled on their sides like shrimp, her back to his front, and while this was undeniably very enjoyable, as the voyage progressed, any contact between them became increasingly a strain on his efforts to be a gentleman, and James had shoved the tiny table and chair into the corner and made up a bed on the floor instead, where he slept with his feet touching the door and his head nearly bumping the table leg. It was not remarkably comfortable, which only added to his grouchiness, but of course, there was no question in his mind that Mary should have the bed.

Now, as quietly as he could, he crossed to the bed in question, carefully picked up Mary's dangling arm, and laid it gently over her chest. She took a deep breath and shifted slightly, but didn't wake; and against his better judgment, he stood looking down at her for a moment, at her long lashes lying on her cheeks, and her breasts, separated from him only by a thin nightgown, rising and falling softly with her breathing. God, he couldn't believe how much he wanted her! His worry of earlier today only added to the desire to touch her and know in every way that she was really alive and safe. His balls ached and his cock was taking on a mind of its own just looking at her.

Gritting his teeth, he turned from her, shrugging out of his coat and hat and hanging them over the chair. Boots came off next; those he set neatly side-by-side under the table, reflecting detachedly that they did need a polish. He was just straightening up from positioning them, when a little rustle sounded from the bed behind him, and he turned to see that Mary was awake, watching him solemnly with her big, dark eyes.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized softly, wondering what her reaction to him would be. Was she still angry with him for earlier? Fully prepared for either some sharp remark or, more likely, her simply ignoring him, he was thoroughly startled by what she did say.

"Come here, James." There was an almost pleading note to her voice, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"Mary…you should rest. So should I." He gestured toward his bed on the floor, pitiful and uninviting as it looked.

"I know…and I want you to rest with me." She pushed herself up to a sitting position, movements languid from sleep, and dropped her pale legs over the edge of the bed, resting her feet on the floor. Her skin glowed blue-white in the moonlight coming through the porthole, and her nightgown dropped into place around her and rippled slightly as she moved towards him. He stood where he was, utterly mesmerized by the sight, as she kicked his floor blankets unceremoniously out of her way and closed the distance between them. Now she was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body and smell her scent, sea-salt mixed with the perfume she wore and the underlying fragrance of herself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of it, then opened them again in surprise when he felt her hands on the buttons of his waistcoat.

"Mary…" he placed his hands over hers to still them, swallowing hard and making himself look away from her face. She was naked underneath that nightgown; how ridiculously easy it would be to undo his breeches and take her right now, and hear the sighs and little moans she would make, and then half the ship's other officers might hear them too…

"No," he said suddenly, removing her hands firmly from him, shaking his head, and drawing himself up straighter. He had to be resolute, here. "It's only three more days," he added, trying to be reassuring, but it only came out as a strangled whisper. "Then we'll have…"

"James…" Mary shook her head in exasperation, allowing him to move her hands, only replace them as soon as he let go- and this time she didn't merely touch his chest. He made another incoherent sound, eyes closing of their own accord as her fingers drifted to his waist, then down his thighs and back up again. By this time he thought that he could probably drive nails with his cock did he want to.

"I want you. Now. Not three days from now." One small hand rested on his hip while the other lightly cupped the terribly obvious bulge in his breeches, eliciting a gasp and a barely suppressed groan from James.

"Would I be wrong in assuming your feelings are similar?" she asked, damnably, lovably insolent even now.

"You would not be…" he managed to croak, "But…" he jerked his head at the partition with Groves' cabin. The Second Lieutenant was almost certainly in there at this time- Groves was not on watch now either, and James thought he had heard some small sounds of movement from that direction a bit earlier.

"James…" Mary repeated, raising her head to look at him, more exasperated than ever, but, he noted, carefully keeping her voice down. "We're married. It's not like you're keeping a whore. They understand." Her hands stroked a little firmer now, and her face broke into her most charming, if just slightly devilish, smile- the same smile that only five months ago had incited him, nervous and sweaty-palmed and wondering what the hell he was doing, to finally work up the courage to ask her to dance back at that dinner party in Bridgetown.

"You…" he looked down at her, somewhat stymied to see her now returning her attention to his buttons with truly single-minded determination. The waistcoat fell open as he watched, and she started on his shirt, working her fingers under it to skim over his chest. His breath caught in his throat.

"…that badly?" he inquired, lifting a hand to stroke it through her long hair.

"Yes, silly…how could I not? Especially with you going about shouting orders and looking very attractive?" She tilted her head into his hand and deposited a lingering kiss on his palm, sending further shivers down his back.

"I hardly thought…" he began, then broke off. He knew that she enjoyed their love-making, of course- he wouldn't have had it any other way- but somehow he had never pictured her taking this much…initiative. It was, he was discovering, extremely flattering. Finished with his shirt, Mary turned her attention to where it was bound to go eventually- the fastenings of his breeches. And that, as James recalled later, was the point where his carefully cultivated control had snapped.

There was a time for talk, and a time for action, after all, and to use only one where the other- or both- was called for was a poor command decision. Mentally damning any potential listeners to hell, he pulled Mary suddenly against him, smothering her delighted squeak with a hungry kiss. Eagerly she backed toward the bed, tugging him by his waistband, even as he was pulling up her nightgown to expose her creamy flesh. Somehow they got all interfering clothing out of the way by the time they reached the berth, and he sank into her with no more preliminaries, burying his moans- which despite his best efforts, he couldn't totally suppress- in her neck as she muffled her little, blissful noises against his shoulder, her silky thighs clutching his hips with a strength he would scarcely have credited from her had he not been experiencing it. What with his state of deprivation, it did not take long, and while it was an indescribable relief to just push on to completion as quickly as possible, damning the consequences, he felt bad about it for Mary's sake, and apologized as he collapsed, panting, half-on and half-beside her.

"I'm sorry…Mary…next time…" His eyes were closed, his lips brushed her shoulder, tasting sweat.

"Next time?" she asked, the interested tone of her voice inviting more description as she brushed back a thick lock of dark brown hair out of his face. The ribbon tying it back had come off at some point, and all James could say for certain was that it was somewhere in the cabin.

"Yes…" he was gaining his breath back now, and opened his eyes and rolled over to his side, pulling her against him as he did. Her ear was quite conveniently in front of his mouth, and he whispered into it, flicking out his tongue to touch the lobe.

"It will be very slow, and I shall kiss you all over."

"Ohhh, all over?" she answered with obvious anticipation, moving her head a bit to give him better access to her ear and her neck, which he was now making small nibbles at. Her breath caught, and she gave a small "Mmmmm" as he moved down to her collarbone. "I'd like that," she whispered, hands gliding up and down his back.

"So it would seem." His words were whispered against her lips, and any answer she might have made was lost in the kiss that followed.


End file.
